The Confrontation...(post-BG2)
by Negrath
Summary: A story in itself, unfinished, that recently got a great portion added to it, without growing a single word...read on... ;)


OK, listen up;  
  
This was intended to be a story of it's own. That's cool. But then, (a mere minute ago) I came up with the idea of adding to it with one posted earlier…"Winter Guests"…  
  
If that does not work for you, I will continue that story in it's own line…but this will finally find an end…an end fitting the fact that none of the BG-folk, peasant or hero, will be able to solve this particular "puzzle" properly…read on…:  
  
(A little backstory; I've been playing at making maps of small medieval towns a (damn long) while ago, and somewhere along the way gave the "Town Tavern" to Mr. and Mrs. Bhaalspawn.  
  
Nothing peculiar about that. And the keep is still within a days quick march…:P)  
  
Anyway:  
  
The Confrontation  
  
  
  
  
  
Flying past her ear, the punch almost made her vince…almost.  
  
Trying to collect herself, she could hear her voice go;  
  
-"You call that a punch, surface swine?"  
  
By way of reply, a foot smashed into her belly, almost braking her in half…  
  
Focusing her attention to what her opponent was doing, she let her voice run on auto;  
  
-"Try that again, and I'll rip your spine out through your nose!"  
  
Undaunted, the stranger sent a kick at her head, her semi-frantic avoidance earning her a long scratch along her jawline.  
  
In a desperate attempt at getting in a hit of her own, she dove towards the agile human male, only to find herself prone on the floor, a burn on her behind telling her that he had managed to smack her even as he evaded her charge.  
  
-"Shar!" she yelled in rage, jumping to her feet, and grabbing the foot that immediately came at her chest.  
  
With a wicked grin, she pulled upwards, as far as she could.  
  
A moment later, her opponent smiled at her, still standing, having performed a move she would not have believed had she not seen it; momentarily putting all his weight on the just as momentarily supported foot, he had let the other follow, letting her rough lift pull him into a small "loop", landing on his feet where he had stood.  
  
-"Who in Cloakwood ARE you?!?!?!"  
  
-"None of your concern, my dear." Were the silent reply, voice void of any strain whatsoever, whereas he own sounded oddly hoarse.  
  
In the split-second between her befuddlement and renewed determination, he had smashed her into the wall, pounding her face with his fists unceasingly.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity through her hazed insistence on remaining conscious, he stopped, chuckling softly as he watched her glide down the wall to sit in slumped submittance, head limp.  
  
Kneeling, he lifted her head with a smile;  
  
-"Now, now, was that so hard?  
  
Good to know you still can find challenges in the world, isn't it? So that you still can justify your continued stay with your friend with the need for help should a mob decide to cling you up again…?"  
  
Lifting her head minutely off his supporting fingers in defiance, she answered with a voice that were thick with emotional strain;  
  
-"That is not the reason…"  
  
-"Isn't it?" he interrupted; "Then why? And don't give me that joke about love…you are Drow, my lady, and as such you do not have such feelings. And even if you had that capability somewhere deep in you, you have barely traveled with him for a month! Are you telling me you follow him for more than protection?  
  
Ah, of course, One of the less known, yet well known things of the Drow community; their…intimate skills.  
  
He thinks he has the benefit of your knowledge, while all the while you use your body to keep him under your sway…admit it: he will kill the world for you, and you enjoy that fact immensely! No?"  
  
She could only shake her head exhaustedly, lacking breath for the kind of reply she wanted to make…  
  
After a few moments she lifted her eyes to bore into his, even further (with futility) enraged at his apparent lack of concern, her arms weakly fighting to lift her slumped form;  
  
-"By the way you treat me simply because I am Drow, I know you will never know, far less understand what I am talking about…rivvil."  
  
In silent reply, he stomped on her left leg, causing blood to trickle from her lips as she bit down hard to keep the scream silent.  
  
-"I can break that leg, then the other. When that's done, it will be the easiest thing in the world to get your hands immobilized, and then…well, what do people who capture you outside of a crowd usually want from you?" he smiled maliciously.  
  
-"I…" throat clogged by rage, she tried again; "I have never allowed that to happen…nor will I ever allow it."  
  
-"Oh, but then you do not have complete recollection of your capture, do you?"  
  
-"I suppose you do?" she spat, voice barely above a whisper in her raw throat.  
  
-"Oh, indeed I do!  
  
I was one of them."  
  
At this semi-cryptic message, something clicked in her mind, and she found herself sobbing as previously unaccessed memories flooded her mind…details she never would have wished to remember…details…of every act humans could do to those they deemed less than themselves…  
  
When she finally came to her senses a good half-hour later, her nemesis had vanished…  
  
Finding strength in her half-crazed anguish she didn't know she had, she screamed at the surroundings, voice ringing between the walls in her immediate vicinity;  
  
-"What was the matter with me?! Were I not good enough for you, perhaps?! Cursed human fleabag! A hundred killers I wish upon your trail, a thousand angry gods upon your mind! Come back and finish what you started, you horse- assed surface worm! I'll Kill You!!!"  
  
  
  
Walking into the tavern she owned with Negrath, Viconia silently slipped into the private section of the building, entering the bedroom, and throwing herself tiredly on the rooms most prominent piece of furniture with a sigh.  
  
Where in the world had that freak come from?  
  
Why had she chosen that specific day to be unarmed?  
  
Would he return?  
  
Recalling her ownership of 2 very effective warhammers, she vividly hoped so…  
  
She had been wandering around, enjoying the knowledge that everyone in her immediate vicinity, be it merchants, housewives or stableboys, did not even consider judging her because of her skin…  
  
Somewhat annoyed, she knew it was because they all knew she was married to the owner of the towns only tavern, a man that were respected as one who's opinion mattered.  
  
Walking down a street that had been curiously empty, and smaller than most in the small, city-like town, she had not known it before the arrogant bastard had her sprawled on the ground, courtesy of a kick from behind.  
  
Not having wasted time on explanations, he had proceeded to make their encounter into something that reminded her uncomfortably of how cats treated rats…  
  
Still ashamed at her loss of control, she closed her eyes, hoping for a dream in which she could repay the favor…  
  
  
  
Aware of her entering the tavern, only to disappear into their private quarters, the Kensai Bhaalspawn Negrath, for the time being running a tavern he himself had financed and helped construct, could not help but wonder why she had looked so…shy.  
  
Basing his thoughts on the 5 years he had spent in her company, he could naught but assume it had been because she, for whatever reason, did not want him to see her.  
  
Calling over one of his serving wenches, he instructed her to go fetch Imoen, the town mage.  
  
The unusually high-spirited spellcaster coming through the doors, the patrons present all raised their glasses in cheerful salute; she was the town's resident joybringer, her time at the hands of Irenicus little more than a magically repressed memory.  
  
As she stepped up to the bar, the flowing robes she wore made her look more like a strange sort of court Jester than a spellcaster, an effect she had counted on and found immeasurably amusing whenever a new face blanched at her appearance.  
  
Elbows on the bar, she crossed her arms and leaned across the desk, smiling;  
  
-"So, what's up, brother?"  
  
routinely going through his assortment of mugs and glasses, checking for scratches and general fault, he replied;  
  
-"I think Viconia has a few problems she does not want me to know about."  
  
Emitting a sound as though repressing a giggle, the female mage grinned;  
  
-"And you want your sister to check up on your bedmate, right? Or do you just want me to make sure you still are allowed to sleep in the same room?"  
  
-"Imoen…" he warned, smiling as he glanced at her; "you still here?"  
  
-"Nah, this is just my mirror image." She shot back as she stood, strolling casually to the door the Drow had passed through mere minutes before…  
  
  
  
-"Vic?" came the careful query from the other side of the door, waking the cleric from her nightmarish reenactment of the despicable event…a dreamed reenactment she just knew would end with the man doing as he had claimed to have done before…and where she knew she would have no chance at resistance.  
  
As a result, she tumbled off the bed, rushed to the door, and tore it open, glad her almost maniacal relief did not present itself in the wetness she had learned to despise both in herself and others.  
  
Still, she pulled the other woman inside, hurriedly locked the door, and returned to the bed, finding that sitting was out of the question.  
  
Seeing the Drow lie down, Imoen unceremoniously followed suit, joining Viconia in her study of the roof.  
  
After a moment or two of silence, a rustling of robes told Viconia the mage had moved to lie on her side, leaning on an arm.  
  
Looking at the smallish woman, whose age seemed to always be a few years ahead of her growth, the cleric smiled mock-derisively;  
  
-"He called you from your tower to check on me, did he?"  
  
Chuckling, Imoen smiled;  
  
-"You know it. So, why don't you want him to see you?"  
  
-"I do…but I need some alone time right now…not all alone." She hurried to add as the mage sat up to leave.  
  
Returning to her leaning posture, the spellcasting "thief extraordinaire" smiled;  
  
-"Does this mean he still has permission to be in the same bed as you tonight?"  
  
Looking the other woman straight in the eye, Viconia grinned;  
  
-"Every night."  
  
The laughter having died down, Imoen chuckled;  
  
-"And he still thinks his opinion on the subject matters?"  
  
-"Wouldn't want it any other way." The cleric smiled conspiratorially.  
  
-"You're cruel, woman!" the mage chuckled, sitting up once more; "unless you have something else on your mind, I'll be reporting to my brother."  
  
Reaching out with battle-trained reflexes, the Drow clamped a hand on her arm, voice suddenly subdued;  
  
-"Don't. Just stay for a moment, will you? I don't…wish to be alone right now…besides," she added, giving a weak grin, "he will not be able to give what I need right now.  
  
Stay."  
  
Throwing herself back on the pillows, Imoen smiled comfortingly as she snaked an arm around her friend;  
  
-"Now how can your husband's sister resist that?  
  
I warn you, though," she grinned, "I might just remain with you 'til you grow old and withered."  
  
Momentarily closing her eyes, as though conjuring up the image of it, Viconia smiled tiredly at the mage;  
  
-"I'd like that very much, oh humorous one. Don't ever dare to think anything else."  
  
-"Won't do." The mage laughed, saluting with her free hand, and resuming her casual study of the roof-boards.  
  
As she sensed that Viconia had fallen asleep, she smiled sadly to herself;  
  
*not even in a city where brother runs the town waterhole can she walk unbothered.  
  
I do believe someone will have to teach that walking mound of orcdung that he can't assault a friend of mine and get away with it.  
  
For now, though,* she mused, looking at the Drow beside her with a warm smile, * I believe I'll do my best work by staying right where I am.*  
  
With sudden insight, she had to suppress a chuckle;  
  
1.1 *I hope old dualblade doesn't get the wrong idea…*  
  
1.2 Throwing a critical glance at the body with which she shared sheets, she grinned to herself;  
  
1.3 *As though it isn't obvious she probably would break every bone in my body without even being aware of it…best not go there*  
  
  
  
Waking to find a multi-colored lump of spellcaster cradled up next to her, Viconia found herself fighting a reaction based on Drow instincts she thought were long since "tamed"…  
  
Deciding to not tempt fate, she gently maneuvered out of the younger Bhaalspawn's hold, stepping out into the hallway heading for the barroom with a stealth she could not find any reason for, nor easily disband.  
  
Crossing the threshold into the public section of the building, she were unsurprised to find the morning sun flooding the near-empty room.  
  
With a surprised hiss, she found herself staggering back through the door, out of the light that had seemed to threaten with burning her to cinders…  
  
A sudden fright of vampirism were quickly subdued…had that been the case, she would likely not be the one considering the world trough uneasy eyes.…  
  
What was going on???  
  
Feeling arms enclose her from behind, she whirled at the unknown enemy…only to have a warmly smiling Negrath complete the embrace;  
  
-"Feeling all right today?"  
  
After a moment of indecision, she sagged against him, and gave sound to her weary mind in a deep sigh, shaking her head weakly;  
  
-"No…the sun…it just attacked me…?"  
  
-"heh? What's that?"  
  
releasing her, he stomped into the barroom, turning to the offensive star in the sky, waving a warning finger at it;  
  
-"You let off my wife, you big, bloated ball of dirt!"  
  
that said, he immediately withdrew his eyes, shrinking out of the lights reach;  
  
"Ouch nonetheless, though…I guess sun from a cloudless sky does make something more of an impression than a sun through a ocean of white puffers. Nothing to worry about, either way…is it?"  
  
-"I did not notice the level of clouds…still it burned like…like…like I do not know what! Must I now dress in that despicable cloak again?!?"  
  
-"Never! Give it to me, and I'll leave it for the moths somewhere they're sure to eat it within the ten-day.  
  
I'll buy you a new one as soon as an option is open."  
  
Stepping over to the bar, squinting as he crossed through the seemingly enhanced rays of the yellow skyball, he set to work preparing what needed preparing for the relative river of visitors that would be bound to come…if for nothing else, then to see the Keep-owner that kept court in a tavern he himself ran…  
  
Carefully maneuvering up after him, hurrying across the part of the sunheated floor that were between them, Viconia followed suit, albeit with a slight hesitation that made it clear she still pondered her reaction to the morning sun…a sun she, although never having seen on it's own, had greeted many a time, before waking the rest of their travelling band.  
  
Suddenly stopping her work, she started towards the door with measured steps, seeming to ignore the expanse of light as she crossed it, not stopping before she stood outside, hands on her hips and eyes stubbornly staring as directly at the glowing orb as she could, ignoring vocal attempts to stop her unhealthy protest, and Negrath stopping any earlybirds, for their own good, from making any physical attempts.  
  
Glancing towards the edge of town, which were just down the arm off the road she stared down, The Bhaalspawn could naught but smile as a familiar figure stepped from the forest beyond, coming to a halt just close enough for his shadow to fall on the Drow's eyes…  
  
The time it took her to understand that her line of sight had been thus interrupted were a clear sign of the danger her eyes had been in…  
  
Recognizing this fact, she made no attempt at resuming her staring contest, merely gave the massive ranger a glare that would have withered oaks…but which just caused the proud hamster-owner to smile companionably, and hold out his rodent, declaring as though all the world would understand;  
  
-"Boo knew."  
  
-"Well, Boo-hoo." Quipped Viconia, stepping back inside the tavern, and resuming the preparations necessary for the taverns daily duties.  
  
Inwardly, her mind had gathered itself into a feeling of supreme contentedness;  
  
She had not backed down, yet she still had her sight…not even at it's strongest, the annoying ball of nerve-grating light were no match for her Drow tenacity.  
  
Inwardly, she laughed…  
  
  
  
Having been called to perform his Lordly duties, Negrath left the Tavern in Imoen's care(knowing she likely would, in turn set some student to maintain her tower, and move in to the place), and, knowing she would follow if she so were tied down with steel ropes, traveled with Viconia to his Noble home.  
  
Settling into chairs they had not used in a good two years time, they both gestured for the Major Domo to proceed:  
  
-"Well, it would seem this particular guest refuses to accept the idea that his appointed host would be the owner of a town tavern, and has so insisted on meeting "the runt of these lands" in a setting in which such a ruler would be expected to be found.  
  
His words, Milord, not mine. His and his alone."  
  
-"Well, all the more reason to disregard him and his, eh, jaluk?" Viconia retorted, looking sideways at the man who had insisted on marrying her properly, for the benefit of their subjects.  
  
With a simple nod, he turned eyes on the doors at the end of the hall, awaiting the guest's arrival.  
  
As they opened, a messenger of the most noble sort took one step into the room, and froze as he saw the lady of the land…  
  
-"A Drow…" he mumbled, unaware of doing so.  
  
Wondering who he came from, thoroughly uninformed as he were, Negrath nodded as he saw the Viconia's responding smile;  
  
-"Yes, she is Drow. Does your Lord have a problem with that?"  
  
-"I…I wouldn't know…he will not be aware of it before I tell him. But I believe he will…"  
  
-"Not like it. So what else is new?" Viconia interrupted.  
  
-"Oh, no, Lady, he will care very little, as a matter of…"  
  
-"Hold it right there. You demand to meet me in my "proper setting", refusing to meet me where you'd have to mingle with people I can only assume are five times your betters. That leads me to the conclusion that your Lord belongs to most other such folk I have met in my life…and each and every one very nearly only accepted Viconia at swordpoint!  
  
You saying your demand has other reasons? And let me tell you right now, had I told them to stay away from our meeting, there is not a single man, woman, or child that would intervene or eavesdrop.  
  
So your eminently great reason would be…?"  
  
-"…I was not aware of your control over…"  
  
-"My what?"  
  
-"Your control…"  
  
-"Erase that word from your mind, and try again. They trust me, and I trust them. I am aware I could order them to stay away…that does not mean I ever would…or would need to. Can your master say the same thing about his subjects?"  
  
-"…"  
  
-"We'll take that as a no." Viconia chuckled.  
  
-"…as…as you wish."  
  
-"Your errand, o haughty one?"  
  
-"Oh, yes, I'm sorry…my Lord and master asks that you would do him the honor of joining a banquet he will hold in the near future. What may I tell him?"  
  
-"With the unspoken agreement that any invitation of me includes my -wife- ," Negrath began, just to stop any "improper" tracks the boy's mind might have taken, "I'll be only too happy to join such a feast…of course, some of the flood of food and drink will eventually trickle down to his subjects, no? Or will they be attending as well?" he grinned…and turned sour as he realized that the expression on the messengers face where one of repulsion…both him and his Lord would likely kill themselves before even seriously considering such a thing.  
  
-"You paying attention, -kid-?"  
  
Producing a slight smile, Viconia whispered;  
  
-"That would be my line, wouldn't it?"  
  
Nodding to himself, he gazed at the messenger, awaiting his response.  
  
After spending a few minutes, supposedly clearing out what he were supposed to answer to, the youngster replied;  
  
-"He will probably have to come back to you on the topic of the Drow…"  
  
-"My name is Viconia, rivvil. -Lady- Viconia to you." "the Drow" interjected, tiredly annoyed at what were an oft-repeated change of reference.  
  
-"I'll…I'll remember that…"  
  
-"Anyway…?" Negrath prodded.  
  
-"Yes, of course, as I said,…"  
  
-"I'm well aware of what you said. Move on."  
  
-"As…you say. No, his subject will only get from it what is left, or what they steal."  
  
-"Stealing subjects a usual case with you and yours?" Viconia queried.  
  
-"Unfortunately, yes, milady…"  
  
-"If you have to talk, talk to him." She replied, gesturing at her fellow ruler.  
  
-"Don't ever refer to me as anything that implies I should care about you."  
  
-"but…"  
  
-"-My- lady? If I am your -anything-, it will be your executioner!"  
  
-"……understood,…Lady Viconia."  
  
-"So we are both invited, -so long as your master doesn't find out he has a problem with Drow nobles- and his subjects will only get what they take for themselves…which they often do, due to a lack of sufficient aid from their o so "benevolent" ruler.  
  
Boy, if that…Lord of yours finds out he will deny me to join, you can tell him to meet me at the tavern, where he can see just how much I care about his "banquets". You are no longer wanted here."  
  
-"And you stopped being tolerated the moment you froze at the sight of me." Viconia added, rising from her chair;  
  
-"Shall I -escort- you out?"  
  
Wisely shaking his head, the young man hurriedly backtracked through the doors he had came through, turned, and all but outright fled.  
  
  
  
Having returned to his tavern, Negrath chuckled at the large crowd having gathered inside, gales of laughter filling the room.  
  
Upon stepping inside, he found Imoen, sitting cross-legged on the bar, telling what would appear to be humorous tales, straight from the Mage's still-highflying imagination.  
  
Seeing how she brought special points across, he had to stop and just stare…  
  
Floating around her as thin clouds were a small number of images…images that seemed to continuously move through a particular set of motions, until it's "bubble" were taken up by another important point in the tale.  
  
How she had come up with that, and what exactly she did to create them, he had no idea…and, chuckling, he considered that even if he took over his fathers place in the divine line, he would never be able to do the trick her after…  
  
*And they say the gods are all powerful, do they?* he thought, passing through the crowd as the current tale concluded, unceremoniously lifted his lifelong friend off the bar, and cheerfully offered a round on the house.  
  
His trust in his subjects absolute, he took the spellcasting Jester with him into the private section, and into the living room, settling the both of them in their respective chairs.  
  
-"Have you heard anything about Viconia's attacker?"  
  
-"Plenty." Imoen sighed, the previous hilarity having vanished the moment the door to the bar closed behind them  
  
-"You would think the entire town had witnessed the incident…though from what Viconia told me, there just might be a possibility that the creep made sure they did just that…indirectly, if nothing else…a connection between his eyes and their minds, if you will."  
  
-"…That is possible?!?"  
  
-"My dear brother…" she replied, pointing past his shoulder.  
  
"…with sufficient magical ability, anything is." She concluded as he turned, finding himself staring at the belly of a beast of a dragon that would never have been able to fit in the room…let alone the building…and which immediately vanished.  
  
-"I…see."  
  
Silently reevaluating his earlier consideration(and thereby eliminating yet another precious reason not to sever his mortal bonds), the Bhaalspawn turned back to the female same, he tried a vague smile;  
  
-"So we have no idea in either case, who to look for?"  
  
-"Nothing but what Viconia saw…which should be sufficient…"  
  
-"…where it not for that noone saw such a character." He finished for her, sighing as she crossed her arms on the table, tiredly resting her head on them in confirming hopelessness.  
  
-"And your divination spells…?" he then prodded, vainly hoping.  
  
Not even looking up, she let her head wag back and forth in an improvised shake.  
  
-"Think you could contact Jaheira? She might be able to get the help of…"  
  
Lifting her head just enough to look at him, Imoen made a sound that grated on his ears…feverishly hoping she never would make it again, she waited for her deliberate, derisive laughter to end;  
  
-"You want to be the one to tell her that we contact her only to get a member of a group she's not even a part of anymore? Someone that, despite appearing to have an interest in you, would never drop by just to bring about a Drow's vengeance?"  
  
-"She's -my- Drow, so he'd damn well better!" the Lord of the land exclaimed.  
  
-"You want him to have a vague interest in you, or to ignore you completely?"  
  
-"You saying I cannot get the aid of the most powerful mage in the realms…because he has an interest in me?!?!?!?"  
  
-"Something like that." were the laconic reply as the mage sat back in her chair, drawing lazy symbols on the table.  
  
Momentarily distracted by the faint yellow light that seemed to linger behind, making the symbols briefly visible, he then chuckled;  
  
-"You did it again, sister. But I do wish you some day would just let me rant for a while."  
  
-"Can't risk it."  
  
-"…point taken. Another thing that freak has stolen from me."  
  
-"Yeah, well, consider this; when you find this goon, you will have every reason to rage what you may…although you'd probably need to make a clone of him for Vic to fight."  
  
Thinking about what he'd do to that perverted excuse for a human,…or whatever he'd appear to be…Negrath found his hands almost immediately darkening to a deep, dark blue as he smiled in anticipation.  
  
Gripping his arms by the wrist, Imoen whistled sharply.  
  
-"Not here, not now." She admonished him as he shook his head to get rid of the ringing, his hands having paled in an instant.  
  
-"Then WHEN?!?" he wailed, before knotting his fists and focusing his mind on the fact that he still had the training and skill of an experienced Kensai…a fact he had ignored for far too long, it seemed.  
  
Calming his mind acceptably took so long he thought he would never manage it.  
  
-"When the time is right." He answered himself when the call from the "bad blood" were no more than a low murmur in the back of his mind.  
  
Smiling, his fellow godchild nodded;  
  
-"When the time is right, we'll -all- give that son of a Gnoll what he deserves…"  
  
A malevolent grin on her face, she added;  
  
"…as a matter of fact, I've studied on some particularly vicious spells I'd like to try out on a fitting subject…think he'd mind?"  
  
Laughing, only slightly discomforted by the fact that he as good as echoed the Voice within, he replied;  
  
-"I hope he does…I truly hope he does…"  
  
Studying her nails with the air of one whose belief in what she says is infinite, Imoen nodded;  
  
-"You can count on it."  
  
  
  
(#and fade…:P#)  
  
Not quite yet, it doesn't… ;-)  
  
For those of you interested in how this continues, read through "Winter Guests" elsewhere on this site, and then proceed to the next chapter…(should it ever arrive)  
  
  
  
P.S.;  
  
Mind you, there's another version of this out…with an ending that comes far quicker, and might just make some sense… ;-P 


End file.
